The Words You Say, the Things You Remember
by Jilly-chan
Summary: Trowa Barton's a young cop who finds himself with an unlikely partner, the rough edged Heero Yuy. Alternate Reality ~guest appearance by Dorothy~


The Words You Say, The Things You Remember  
by Jillian Storm  
  
Warnings?: tiny language. suggestive behavior-only if you   
read into it. violence? Yes, not nice things happen off camera, but I don't think that I made it . . . too scary. I couldn't.   
  
***  
Disclaimer: Having been inspired by muggy, hot August   
nights, Jillian put herself into a very *very* strange mood   
and wondered what would happen if Dick Tracy met Gundam   
Wing and tossed it into Alternate Reality. Used instances,   
characters, lines, etc were taken from their respectable   
owners and will be returned eventually. *ahem* names have   
been changed to protect the innocent.   
***  
  
  
This is the report. This is the way I see it. This is   
Dorothy Catalina's universe. But I am Trowa Barton.  
  
She was discovered rather than born. A Venus for our   
generation. I was a rather successful detective who had   
fallen on hard times and into the middle of practical bounty   
hunting. Some people see them as mutually exclusive. I   
used to be one of those people. Key word in that sentence?   
You've got it.   
  
So what changed me? Was it the girl? Or was it a woman?   
A lady beyond a doubt. With layered locks of gold that   
fell around her gentle features and sharp eyes. Chilly   
blue eyes that reflected the violence of a summer storm on   
the ocean. And a voice that recalled the slow brush of   
wind that warned of violent possibilities.  
  
Heero was more skeptical.   
  
Heero was my partner. A dark man with a dark past that   
helped me slip from the golden side of law and benefit   
anyway. I had a green color and a decorated record from   
the Academy. Heero had years experience and come into his   
position through the back door of necessity.   
  
We had brushed shoulders a couple of times in the hallway   
coming to and from the chief's office. The chief. Back   
when we honored one. Back when we filled our forms and   
papers and spilt ink after spilling blood. Back when   
Dorothy first came to us.  
  
When Dorothy first came to me.  
***  
  
I had a lousy week losing one bloke and finding another one   
on the street lacking evidence. The friendly tipping of   
his hat and the wicked grin of darkened teeth drove me into   
the rain. Into a reflective brooding that chilled my   
narrow limbs and froze my shrinking heart. I loved my   
city. I wanted to protect her. And she defended the   
villains who wanted to violate her.  
  
So the neon glow of the sign broke the darkness of the   
street. And I was swept toward it like a moth toward the   
fire. My spirit burning with anguish and my face frozen in   
a dispassionate chill. I don't drink, but many things were   
to change that night.  
  
The first of which was the burning of my spirit. The   
liquor calmed the anger and some sort of warming peace fell   
over my mind instead. I leaned against the counter, still   
heavy with grief. But glowing with artificial   
possibilities. When I sensed another spirit glowing a few   
seats down and I had to look.  
  
I have no time for dames. But I seem to care for many of   
them. My sister, Catherine, found a decent man to give her   
babies and keep her safe in a small country place miles   
from my district. Then there was Scarlet at the academy.   
A chaste fling that solved itself in friendly terms. And   
my mother. Well, God was going to take care of her for me.   
I never met her, but I'll never love another woman like   
her.   
  
She comes to me in dreams sometimes and brushes my face.   
Delicately caressing the strands of my unruly hair from my   
face and tracing my cheek with a feather's touch.   
"Darling," she whispers . . .  
  
"Darling," she whispers into her glass. But this woman   
isn't talking to me. She isn't pulling her fingers through   
my hair or tracing my cheekbones with anything. One   
glance, however, told me that I wouldn't mind if she did.  
  
She pulls her finger around the rim of her glass and the   
echoes of a strange song reach my ears. I watch her   
retrace the pattern and the song wails again. It hurts to   
look at her intoxication with the movement when she hasn't   
tasted the liquid. The frowning tilt of her lips pulled   
down her eyelids over blue, tearless pools. Golden hair   
spills loose from where she's tried to tame it in clips.   
  
I'm staring and it's making the bartender uncomfortable.   
She traces the glass again. The squeaking wail coming   
soulfully broken again. She needed to learn how to make   
real music.  
  
"Darling, got an eye full?" She murmurs and it takes me a   
moment to realize that she's talking to me. But I keep   
staring. Whiskey made me unashamed. Beer loosened my   
emotions. And whatever it was that I had picked to tempt   
me that night didn't mind when she patted the seat next to   
her.  
  
When my lips first parted she took the busy finger and   
placed it over them. "Don't tell me what I don't need to   
know." She whispered. At that moment, I wondered why I   
had bothered to tell anything to anyone but her.  
  
The next morning I wished I could remember anything that   
had happened with her. But the bed was cold and crumpled   
and my head was buzzing with accusations. Reminding me why   
I didn't drink. Reminding me that the Lady City had   
rejected and deserted me. Reminding me that I still had to   
serve her.  
  
And as I walked to the station, my step somewhat staggered   
with the new sensation of the earth's constant rotation, I   
knew that something important would happen that day.  
  
First, I was sent on a rather harmless patrol. Either a   
favor upon the recognition of an incapable officer or a   
punishment for a reckless lieutenant. I sat in front of a   
flower stand watching the Chinese grocer weigh, trade and   
bag his goods. And when he left, I left too.  
  
I might have thought twice before turning into the alley   
after my suspect if I had more of my wits about me. But I   
was busy pulling the brim of my hat down and trying to   
avoid the cruel mistress, the sun. When the three guys   
pounced me, I figure they were doing it for fun more than   
to protect anything I might find.  
  
"Dumb dick." One of the Chinese fellows kicked my jaw back   
and I remembered that I liked my teeth long enough to swing   
back. Missing the guy I was aiming for and also off   
setting my balance enough to fall. They were having better   
success with their quick feet and I felt something in my   
stomach complaining about a sudden pressure. I curled   
instinctively. Straining for my mother's voice with ears   
that instead heard a delightful Chinese curse.  
  
And the violence left me and the sounds of battle moved   
farther away as did my consciousness until I felt a cold   
slap against my cheek. "Stupid kid."   
  
I was getting plenty of compliments that day and tried to   
grin but tasted the blood on my teeth instead when the   
simple motion failed. The scowling figure I recognized   
later at Heero Yuy, the dark angel in the force who made   
things happen. He served the Lady, the City, as well, but   
he was her secret lover. The beloved bastard everyone   
overlooked for the sake of usefulness.  
  
We didn't have anything to do with each other before   
because I still polished the boots of the higher ups. I   
liked things clean. I did not drink. I did not hook up   
with beautiful mysterious women. I did not tail someone so   
poorly as to get pounced. I did not lean against Heero Yuy   
the entire way back to the station.  
  
But we moved in mutual silence until he dropped me with a   
rather ungentle toss into the stiff chair of my recently   
earned desk. I wondered if I should murmur some sort of   
thanks, but instead was met by the stern grip of my boss   
pulling my chin up for a better look at my bruised face.   
  
"OW." I hissed as unwanted tears threatened to rise.   
  
"No more funny business, Barton." He growled in mock   
anger. I knew he was frustrated with me, but the vision of   
pain I must have appeared made him slightly wince. "Do the   
paper work. We'll send Yuy after the Chinese man."  
  
"That's mine . . ." I started to complain, studying the   
pages he slapped on the desk and admiring how the words   
spun into a dance all on their own, spiraling into a dizzy   
haze. I knew I had picked up a pen, but the metal seemed   
no longer under the control of my fingers. My head fell hard  
against the hard wood I had so proudly earned as I heard   
the orders given, "Take Barton to the infirmary."  
  
The cobwebs left my head the next time I woke up and were   
replaced by a sharp twinge of embarrassment. When had this   
started? And the memory of an angelic beauty seemed as   
distant as a dream. Was that how all of this began?   
  
The vision faded in and out as did my consciousness. When   
I stirred into real wakefulness, I startled on the patient,   
chiseled feature of Heero Yuy.  
  
"You're better." He announced. "Let's go." He tossed   
some clothes onto my lap. I recognized the garments as my   
own. Someone had picked them up from my apartment. No one   
from the station would have bothered, but I wondered if   
Heero had decided I couldn't go out in my bloodier version.   
Shrugging sore limbs into my clothes, I remembered that my   
life was only fulfilled by serving the City. And then I   
wondered how much my life was really worth. If I was   
serving the Lady, the City, in this condition.  
  
"Where are we going?" I asked after I was checked out of   
the room and hurried down several blocks. I didn't   
immediately recognize our destination.  
  
"You need food." Heero pushed open the door to the bar.   
And I shuddered looking at the evil glow of the neon light   
in the daylight. A hiss of frustration passed through my   
lips, but I was too weak with hunger to protest further.  
  
We claimed a table near the far wall. All of the tables   
along the wall were claimed but one and I was positioned   
with my back to it. "What time is it?" I growled leaning   
in close to the menu, this time to keep the words from   
floating off the page.  
  
"One thirty." Heero answered motioning the waitress over.  
  
"Lunch, then." I decided, intent on the first column of   
choices since I couldn't seem to find any of the others.  
  
"Coffee," Heero muttered, handing the waitress the menu   
without looking at her. His gaze was rather frozen on my   
hunched over posture. I was leaning heavily against the   
table.   
  
"Reuben sandwich." I decided. "Toasted bread. Salad."  
  
"Anything to drink?" She asked tapping the order pad   
lightly with her pencil. I turned my face up at her and   
the smiling lines around her eyes twitched enough to know   
that I did look as bad as I felt.  
  
"Orange juice."  
  
"Are you sure you'll be able to keep that down?" She   
looked worried as she took the menu from me. My hands   
dangled meaninglessly in the air in front where the menu   
had been.  
  
"He'll be fine." Heero growled never looking up. Instead   
he crossed his arms and stared at the wall.  
  
The waitress had been gone for some time. A few of the   
middle tables had been filled. A few of the edge tables   
had been vacated. I watched them blur past my vision.   
Uncertain of why I was back where everything had started.   
And the dark angel of the city sat across from me scowling   
at the wall.  
  
The food came unannounced and quickly. Heero left his   
coffee untouched, and I stared at the sandwich as if I had   
never seen one before. My stomach rebelled against the   
idea rather violently.  
  
"I feel like shit."   
  
"You look like shit."  
  
And suddenly my mind sparked with a brilliant flash and I   
laughed. Honestly. Until my sides ached as if they had   
been pounded with feet again. I held myself and leaned   
forward over the unwanted food. The sight of which made me   
laugh more softly.  
  
I caught Heero's puzzled gaze as he watched me silently   
laughing. Nothing needed to be said between us and I knew   
that I liked this man.   
  
I collected myself then waved the waitress back. "Soup   
maybe?" And as she left to meet the new request, my gaze   
followed her to the bar. When my breathing stopped.  
  
"What is it?" Heero leaned toward me suddenly. "Who do   
you see?" I could sense his intruding presence, but my   
eyes never left the woman at the bar. I finally looked away,   
feeling my spirit burn with shame. Clenching my jaw and   
clenching my eyes closed against the room. I never drink.   
Why was I here?  
  
"Is it that woman?" Heero hissed.  
  
I opened my eyes to glare at him. His gaze was cool but   
not unfriendly. Demanding, but not without understanding.  
  
"I have to leave."  
  
"She'll see you." Heero reminded. And I had to fight down   
my every urge to flee. My cool reputation for a steady   
hand failed me as the juice glass shivered fearfully.   
  
"You're weak from you injuries. That's why you're   
shaking." Heero growled angrily. I felt some comfort in   
those words and set the glass down. The excuse was a handy   
one. The truth was beyond my understanding. "You   
shouldn't be here."  
  
"Nice that you care." I tried to joke and decided that I   
thought the wallpaper was incredibly fascinating--worth my   
close inspection. I tried to decide why Heero liked   
looking at it so much.   
  
The hiss of his breath and the pull on his cheek was as   
close to a smile as I thought I could earn from Heero Yuy.   
And I felt small pride returning to its long forgotten   
station in my spirit.  
  
"She's gone." Heero stood up. He glanced at my plates and   
then sat down again. "Eat."  
  
And I did.  
  
We left the smoky haze of the room later to re-enter the   
humid heat of mid-day. I felt better with the soup in me,   
but the world was still spinning a little. Heero glanced   
over at me. I managed to clear his height by a few inches,   
but his presence overpowered mine. Heero's reputation   
carried him far beyond my reach. Something about the dark,   
Japanese man that I admired.  
  
I was uncertain. But Heero again gave me an escape. "You   
need to go home."  
  
"Right." I set off on my new mission, somewhat surprised   
to see that Heero matched my pace. I slowed a little, but   
discovered that Heero actually kept my longer stride   
comfortably. Somewhat surprised that he was coming with me   
at all.   
  
Not surprised enough to ask or complain.  
  
"Carefully now." He murmured as we entered the building.   
It suffered from a little foundational sinking, but my room   
on the third floor had an excellent view of the building   
next door that I had a hard time turning down. I'd lived   
there for almost two years now and it was just starting to   
feel like home. The two years duty in this City's force   
hadn't made the station feel anymore homey, but I hadn't   
exactly gone out of my way to make friends.  
  
I halted immediately on his words. The warm glow from my   
stomach hadn't completely overshadowed the tension and   
nervousness I felt from a few wrong choices I had leaped   
into during the past few days.  
  
I don't drink. This is why.  
  
I don't often have visitors, but I had a modest apartment   
with too few belongings to actually clutter. I pulled the   
keys out of my pocket, happy that I had remembered them   
from the infirmary. The bloodied clothes I had left.  
  
Leaning towards the door, it opened on its own.   
  
"I don't forget to lock the door."  
  
"And you don't drink."  
  
I paused, unable to remember if I had actually spoken that   
out loud.   
  
Heero's cheek twitched in his warped version of a grin.   
Still, he agreed with me. "Someone else has been here."  
  
I eyed him suspiciously, remember how he had brought the   
clothes I was wearing. Narrowing my gaze with an   
accusation, I witnessed his cheek twitched again.  
  
"I locked it."  
  
And we both stood taller. Heero pulled out his revolver.   
I didn't have mine. I didn't know where mine was. I hoped   
someone had put it in my drawer at the station. Or that   
Heero had picked it up from my encounter with the Chinese   
men.  
  
He gave a quick nod and we both stepped into my abandoned   
apartment room. "Out." Heero ordered in such a tone that   
I felt knocked over with its intensity. "Down." He   
barked as we raced past the stairs.   
  
I moved swiftly and blind to his intentions, but trusting   
in his motivation.   
  
"Left." He spun sharply after running out the front   
entrance. I followed him as he turned down the alley   
between my building and the next. Halfway down the length,   
Heero stopped suddenly. His gun balanced between both of   
his hands. Ready. Breathing quickly, but controlling the   
volume so that he could listen.  
  
Then I heard the steps on the metal fire escape. Both of   
our eyes met on the figure above us. Heero muttered our   
choice oath and took aim.  
  
"You don't know who that is!" I protested. Pulling down   
on Heero's arm. He shook me off, impatient, taking aim   
again. The figure was gone.  
  
He shot me an icy blue glare, before running back out to   
the street. "Take the back. Watch for a gray coat. Brown   
slacks."  
  
I looked at my empty hands. No weapon. More cautiously than   
when I chased after the Chinese man, I peered around the   
other side of my apartment building. The light was dimmer   
back here and the air was tighter. I walked as quietly as   
I could and glanced behind the dumpster. In the doorways.   
I stood and listened. Nothing. I took a good look up,   
just in case. And caught a rare glimpse of clear blue sky.   
  
An innocent color that reminded me that blue-eyed Heero was   
still searching for this potential intruder on the street.   
  
I took my time though. The running had made my head spin   
again. I didn't think that the Chinese men had beaten me   
this badly. Maybe it was from when my head slammed into my   
desk. I felt my ears turning red. I hoped it was from the   
running.  
  
"Trowa?" Heero's voice was concerned, his gun was put   
away, and he reached out to steady my shoulders. "Did you   
see him?"  
  
"No." I decided against shaking my head as I might have   
otherwise. "I'm fine, just winded. A little."  
  
Heero skipped past my weakness again. "Right. You're   
fine." He slapped my arm and continued. "Let's go back   
and check out your room."  
  
Heero glanced around my stuff and I tried to make a more   
thorough check. But after fifteen minutes, I decided that   
I would investigate how comfortable my couch still was. I   
leaned back against a pillow and closed my eyes. The couch   
wasn't long enough. One foot dangled over the end. I kept   
the other braced against the spinning ground.  
  
"Her name is Dorothy Catalonia."   
  
It took me a minute between waking and drifting off into   
sleep to realize that Heero was talking to me. Then a few   
more seconds to realize exactly what it was that he had   
said. The rest of the connections seemed a little beyond   
me at that moment so I asked, "Who?"  
  
"The woman at the bar."  
  
I didn't reply. Instead, I felt a flash of confused   
memories. The sorrowful sound made against a glass. The   
smell of alcohol. The taste of lips against my own.  
  
"Who is she?" I asked.   
  
"I was hoping you could tell me."  
  
And I was instantly relieved that Heero didn't know more   
about her than I did. "She's trouble. Somehow, she   
started this."  
  
"Did she tell you anything? Barton!"  
  
The snap of my name brought me back from the dreaming   
sensation that Dorothy's memory was recalling. I might as   
well have gotten drunk again. I didn't need to drink to   
remember how to feel this way again.  
  
"I hate her."  
  
"Sure you do." Heero's voice interrupted my scattered   
thoughts.  
  
"Do you love someone?" I asked.  
  
"No. And neither do you."   
  
"I know."  
  
"She's connected to the Chinese men." Heero's voice pulled   
me back again.  
  
My jaw worked but nothing coherent was uttered. So, I   
tipped my jaw forward enough so that he knew that I was   
listening still.   
  
"I pulled you from the infirmary early because I had to   
know if she was the woman you saw last night."  
  
"Woman. I saw." My skills of analysis drifted in and out   
of consciousness.  
  
"Yes." Heero's voice came from far away. And I was alone   
in the dark.  
  
I remember that when I in junior high, my sister and I had   
this tree house in the back yard. I spent most of my   
summer there. Until Catherine decided it was a great place   
to take her boyfriends. Still, if I could sneak out the   
back door before my aunt and uncle heard me, I often   
climbed up to the solitude and sanctuary of that small   
building.  
  
I liked to watch the spiders build their webs. Even   
Catherine let them to their business. One evening, before   
the sun had stolen away its light completely, I saw one   
scrawny spider catch a gnat in its web. Using some legs to   
stand in the snaring web, others to hold the struggling   
victim and the free ones to weave, the fragile spider   
worked the gnat to death. And then partook of its meal   
with gentle kisses.   
  
"Was that what she asked you, Trowa?" A voice that seemed   
familiar asked near me. I opened my eyes slowly to see   
Heero's face only a few inches from my own. He leaned back   
and I stretched, trying to remember why Yuy was in my   
apartment. Tried to remember why I was napping on the   
couch. Remembering why my stomach ached and my jaw   
complained.  
  
"You talk so softly in your sleep." Heero explained,   
tipping back on his heels from where he had crouched by the   
couch and then stood going back to his original seat.  
  
"I was talking in my sleep?" I asked. Feeling more alert   
with each breath I took. My limbs felt strangely tense. I   
tried to relax them. Heero had been here. I must have   
been safe. But the vulnerability of my unhindered speech   
troubled me. "What did I say?" I whispered.  
  
"Do you feel better?" Heero studied my face.  
  
I sat up carefully, and then put both of my feet on the   
floor twisting to rest my arms against my knees. I nodded.   
Leaving my question to linger until he answered it.  
  
Heero looked at me for a good while. The seconds ticked   
past and I found my eyelids drooping again.   
  
"You were drugged."  
  
My eyes opened wide.  
  
"The drink," Heero stopped to breathe a small laugh. "The   
drink was done up so that you wouldn't remember her asking but   
that you could still answer her questions."  
  
"What does a small-town-detective-come-to-the-city know   
that this Dorothy needed to know so that she planned this   
scheme so completely?" I whistled. It was easier to think   
about myself and about the circumstances at a distance.  
  
Heero tilted his head to consider that for a moment. His   
eyes never left my face. "She was expecting someone."  
  
"Someone?" My brain began to pick up its characteristic   
ability to analyze and evaluate. "It wasn't me."  
  
"You don't drink." Heero actually laughed.  
  
"My happening into the bar then was an accident." I   
puzzled over the radical possibilities. "But why would she   
think it was me? Did I accidentally respond to a code? Do   
I look like someone else?"  
  
Heero pondered those a moment. "Perhaps its because you're   
a cop."  
  
I stopped my contemplation of the chance circumstances and   
asked again, "What did I say in my sleep?"  
  
"She wanted to know if the deal had been made."  
  
I pulled that one around for a while. "A deal? Like a   
deal to get out? Or a deal to get in? Or an underhanded   
deal?"  
  
"Do you always think out loud?" Heero asked, actually   
grinning.  
  
"Only when there's someone near who can help me out by   
listening." I answered quickly, still working the problem   
in my head. Trying to remember hearing someone actually   
saying that to me. Flashes of dark blond hair cascading   
around me like a web.  
  
"Go to sleep, Trowa." Heero commanded after I sat silent   
for a few minutes.  
  
I might have protested that I'd just woken from a nap, when   
I realized that I was tired. Somehow, between the late   
lunch, the chase, my nap and the possible solution to the   
mysterious woman at the bar, I was ready to rest. My body   
yawned rebelliously.  
  
Heero glanced around then said, "I'll stay here."  
  
"Take the bed." I offered.  
  
"No." He stood from his chair and waited until I stood as   
well. "I'll fit on the couch. Give me a blanket and go   
to sleep."  
  
He didn't quite fit. But the match was better than if I   
had tried to sleep there longer. I curled against my   
pillow. Not remembering the night that left the sweet   
perfume I could almost smell. I shifted and caught a   
glimpse of Heero standing in the living room. His back to   
me, and his gaze onto the city. What he could see of it   
around the view of the neighboring building.  
  
I didn't particularly enjoy many of my recent waking up   
experiences, but, after a more or less comfortable and full   
night's sleep in my own bed, I managed to make the   
transition pleasantly enough. Heero left as soon as I was   
moving. His presence a dark shadow in front of the window   
when I first noticed him. I wondered in passing if he had   
stood there all night.  
  
I called into the office to let them know that I was coming   
and wanted the information on the Chinese case. And my   
gun. After the impromptu encounter with someone in my   
apartment, I didn't want to wander very far unarmed.  
  
I walked. Pulling my hat down low, but keeping an alert   
watch on everyone around me. Blond women I studied the   
closest. I knew that the next time I saw Dorothy   
Catalonia, I was going to be the one asking the questions.   
And something inside me burned with the possibilities of   
her answers.  
  
I walked into the common office and sat at my desk long   
enough to satisfy the chief's curious gaze as he peered out   
of his office door. Looking in my general direction. I   
shuffled the papers on the Chinese case back into their   
folder, collected my gun from the drawer, and walked over   
to Heero's dark corner. I managed to walk with the air of   
invisibility so that no one noticed the sudden interest I   
had in the black sheep officer.  
  
"Ready?" I asked. Heero stopped his pencil work to lift   
his eyebrows wonderingly. His lips twitched as he   
hesitated just a moment longer then dropped the pencil and   
stood, swooping up his over shirt and weapon in one smooth   
motion.   
  
We stepped out into the morning again, with a renewed   
interest in justice. "Let's chat." I suggested. Walking   
briskly past the street which the bar was on. I didn't   
want to go there ever again, and yet I had to resist the   
unholy desire to go back every time I thought of it.   
  
Instead, I pulled us along to the coast of the bay. The   
breeze pushed us back. I felt a salty spray ravage my face   
with watery kisses as the waters moved in a rather   
ferocious manner.  
  
"It's going to rain." Heero said dryly.   
  
"Hn." I agreed and then sat down on the nearest bench. I   
felt somewhat better that I was taking the initiative. I   
appreciated Heero's help, but I wasn't ready to become the   
completely faded lapdog of such a disreputable officer.  
"Now these Chinese men." I ruffled through the top of the   
papers.  
  
Heero sat down next to me, glancing around and satisfied   
that we were alone. "Generic thugs."  
  
I was amused by the image of Chinese thugs, and then my jaw   
ached with the smile-reminding me how quickly the same men   
had tackled me earlier. "Meaning?"  
  
"They don't do much but a few underhanded deals. Hardly   
worth our time, that's why you were put on patrol duty with   
them . . . when you came into HQ so hung over." Heero's   
eyes were narrowed to focus on something far out to sea. I   
glanced out there nervously, but couldn't tell on what   
Heero was visually meditating.   
  
"So they simply decided to do a number on a dumb cop?" I   
clarified.  
  
"More or less." Was Heero's uncommitted answered.   
  
"Marvelous." My concealed ego wilting. I found the   
identification slip I was looking for in the pile of   
reports. A surveillance photo dated several years ago   
showed the Chinese man. In the background was the fuzzy   
reflection of the woman at the bar.   
  
"Dorothy." I heard Heero speak the name I was afraid to   
think.  
  
"She is . . . ?" I let the question drift out on the next   
gust of wind cold and fresh from the far-reaching seas.  
  
"With the Chinese men quite a bit." Heero shrugged. "I've   
actually been banished to the paperwork around this   
assignment for . . . my reasons. After going through the   
history on this organization, I think the force has   
underestimated the ambitions of this group. She's friends   
with the leader's son. Seems that the two of them are   
rather clean of the underground racket that the others like   
to cause, but she does small transportation jobs now and   
again."  
  
"Transporting?" I asked, "Transporting what?"  
  
"Money. Boot-leg goods." Heero left a pause suggesting   
more. "Nothing too unusual or too illegal."  
  
"Too illegal." I repeated, letting the distaste of that   
phrase roll over my tongue.  
  
"We leave them alone, pretty much." Heero shrugged.  
  
"Why don't they leave us alone?" I asked gingerly touching   
my stomach.  
  
Heero thought for a moment. "Yeah, I was rather surprised   
that the chief didn't move the entire force after they   
attacked you. Even if you were drunk." His cheek   
twitched. He was probably remembering my declaration that   
I don't drink. And I won't. Never again.  
  
"I was brash." I paused. "I had been frustrated."  
  
"You're their golden boy." Heero disagreed. " Showing up a little under par doesn't mar a reputation like yours."  
  
"Well, where do we start to find the answers then?" I   
submitted to Heero's better experience with this   
assignment.  
  
"Dorothy."  
  
And the chill of the coming storm traced icy fingers down   
to my core. And I shivered.  
  
Reporting back to the station, I told the secretary a vague   
excuse that she seemed more than eager to leave as vague.   
Heero shrugged when I offered him the phone, saying that he   
never checked in.  
  
"How long have you worked with them?" I asked. I'd heard   
rumors about Yuy's involvement with the force, but   
suspected that none of them could be as bizarre as the   
truth.  
  
"With them?" Heero let out a hoarse mockery of a laugh.   
"I've been a servant to the City since I was born, Barton."   
And the look he gave me told me better than any words the   
cold life the City had given him.  
  
"Foster kid?" I asked, suspecting.  
  
"More or less."  
  
"Lack of commitment." I made a mental note. Heero's cheek   
twitched. I made a mental note of that as well. It was   
becoming easier to earn humorous marks from the dark   
Japanese man.  
  
Then he answered. "Twelve years."  
  
I was taken back a little. "How old are you?" I asked,   
trying to evaluate the possibilities myself and getting no   
specific, reliable guesses. Heero looked older than he   
should and seemed younger than he was. Not that he acted   
younger, just, at times, he seemed hopeful for something   
that most people lose when they get older.  
  
"Twenty-seven."  
  
"Hm." I replied. Accepting and acknowledging that he   
honored my prying questions with answers. "You seem so   
much older than me though."  
  
"That's life."   
  
I nodded. Realizing that the city was aging me faster as   
well. I simply hadn't gone as far as Heero had. "You were   
fifteen then?" Heero nodded.   
  
I tried to ease the emphasis I'd loaded over his past. "I have a sister."   
  
"Catherine."  
  
I started. My expression questioning. Had he searched my   
apartment? Read and researched my records? Nothing seemed   
too underhanded.  
  
"You talk in your sleep." His cheek pulled back slightly.   
"A lot."  
  
Our surveillance took all day and edged into night. The   
shadows of bad weather looming closer and closer but never   
quite breaking. I was painfully aware than my body was   
tiring. Whether the coming weather or the stillness that I   
was forcing it to maintain so much caused it, I still could   
feel the throbbing of the Chinese men's blows.   
  
The throbbing kept me from dozing off. And for that I had   
to be grateful. I couldn't afford to let Heero hear all of   
my secrets.  
  
I felt Heero's hand touch my shoulder. Looking up, I saw   
her. A vision of golden glory in the stormy glow of a   
setting sun. We'd moved from the Chinese man's store in   
the day to sit by the bar for the evening. Heero told me   
that the Chinese man's son owned the bar.  
  
"Let's go." Heero started toward the neon sign.  
  
"Wait." I protested. "Didn't you just say that man's son   
owns this place?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Is it safe?" I noticed my hand straying toward my   
concealed weapon. Heero noticed.   
  
"With that, and me, you're as safe as you're ever going to   
be in this City. Kid." He added the bit at the end with   
an affectionate lilt to his tone. I scowled at him in   
return, but followed. I swallowed my heart and prepared   
myself as a keeper of the peace. I was born for this   
occupation, and I had legitimately earned my reputation for   
quality service.   
  
And I wanted to impress Yuy with what the "kid" could do.  
  
My resolve was all that saved me when those sultry eyes   
found me coming close. The sweet perfume I remembered from   
my pillows surrounded her like an invisible shield. My   
body responded to the warmth of the room, but nothing was   
said. Heero stood next to me, an imposing figure.  
  
"Yes, darlings?" Her voice broke the spell that held me   
transfixed. The reality of the moment freed my integrity.  
  
"Dorothy Catalonia."  
  
"You remember me?" Her voice was dangerous, and somewhat   
something else. I fancied it was startled.  
  
"That's not what I've come here to talk to you about." I   
matched the dangerous tremble of her voice with a deep one   
in my own.  
  
She glanced at Heero, then back at me. "I don't go   
anywhere with strangers."  
  
"Are they bothering you, doll?" The bartender wandered   
down to where we were gathered.  
  
"We're just chatting." Heero shot the man a lethal look.  
  
"You're not wanted here. Just more tough ass acting cops."   
The bartender responded in turn. He continued to wipe the   
glass clean, but his motions were more powerful and   
deliberate.  
  
Dorothy's eyes shifted a little. "Let's take this outside.   
Now."  
  
"Now, Dorothy . . ." the man protested.  
  
"I'll be *fine*." She emphasized the last word with a   
practiced bite. She had been overly protected before.   
  
The night was cooling with sudden anticipation of a   
cleansing shower. Dorothy stopped just outside the door.   
"You're both cops?" She asked looking pointedly at Heero.  
  
I nodded. But her gaze never moved, and she never noticed   
my response.  
  
"Now, puppies. Don't come back here again." Dorothy   
warned, putting one hand on a shapely hip.   
  
Heero smirked, and spun on his heel. I hesitated for a   
moment. Torn between the angst and shame I was fighting   
down in Dorothy's presence and the professional loyalty I   
felt bonding me to Heero. Then I followed Heero.  
  
"What's this?" I hissed, but the words came out coolly.   
Sometimes, I surprise myself with how detached I can sound.  
  
"Don't worry." Heero said without explanation.   
  
I continued to follow, feeling somewhat like a mindless,   
scurrying mouse chasing after the smell of cheese. While   
we moved, I tried to remember why I trusted Heero. My   
memory was dazzled with a barrage of shortly barked   
commands and a few brotherly encouragements. That was what   
friendship with Heero Yuy was--barked commands and a   
hesitant reaching out. So I kept following, as we went   
farther from the heart of the city and out to the gentler   
suburbs. I wished I had a car. Or had picked up a squad   
car from the station.   
  
Heero stopped and consulted the hasty scrawl on a piece of   
torn napkin.  
  
"What's that?" I asked leaning in to notice we were very   
near the address noted there.  
  
"A clue." Heero lifted an eyebrow and gave me a mock   
incredulous look. I started somewhat. Wondering why Yuy   
was suddenly so playful after we had distanced ourselves   
from our most likely lead.  
  
"From Dorothy?" I assessed.  
  
"Very good, detective." Heero glanced at house numbers.   
"Now to figure out what the clue is meant to tell us."  
  
"Can we trust her?" I had to ask. Not entirely eager to   
become as vulnerable in her hands as I might have been a   
few nights before.  
  
"If she had her reasons for give us this information,"   
Heero found what he was looking for. "Yes."  
  
I frowned somewhat on whatever detective style Heero was   
demonstrating, but as he had mentioned before. With my   
gun, and with him, I was as safe as anyone in the City   
could be. We stepped onto the front porch of the specific   
house. The entire place was badly in need of a re-  
painting. I glanced up and was impressed with the quality   
webbing that the spider's had liberty to construct. An old   
bird's nest in one corner sealed the natural art's   
brilliance.  
  
"Nice place." Heero noticed my observations, and knocked a   
second time.   
  
"It is late." Our journey across town had let the sun set   
and a few brave stars were visible beyond the hazy city   
lights. I wondered who would greet us, and what exactly   
Heero had in mind.  
  
The silence became uncomfortable. Heero settled his hand   
against the doorknob. With a firm shove, the door broke   
open. "Hn, unlocked." Heero said.  
  
I shook my head, dismayed with the obvious lack of   
protocol. But I still followed him into the shadows. The   
two ingredients necessary to keep the City safe. Yuy, and   
a gun.  
  
The place smelled, and the electricity was off. Whether   
cut off or discontinued, we were walking into darkness. I   
had walked into placed before, just never so blind to my   
intentions.  
  
Heero muttered our favorite foul word. "We're too late."   
And he was right. Smeared across his table and half still   
in his chair was someone. Someone dead.   
  
"Do you know this guy?" I asked, grimacing. I didn't like   
watching death working so closely. Death had done it's job   
with style.  
  
"This will be hard to explain." Heero wasn't listening to   
me. Instead, he moved past the kitchen and down the back   
stairs.   
  
"How are you going to see?" I asked, following   
apprehensively. The body was cold, and I hoped that was a   
good sign that whoever had done the killing had simply left   
a hot trail.  
  
Heero swore again and then stomped back up the stairs.   
"There's nothing down there."  
  
"What's going on?" I was suspicious watching Heero with a   
calculated caution. He knew more than I did, which made me   
nervous.  
  
"Well, we're going to have to report this guy as dead."   
Heero pointed over to the stiff with his chin.  
  
"Do you know him?" I asked, no longer veiling my   
suspicions.  
  
"His name was Duo Maxwell." Heero nodded. "Worked for the   
Chinese man. Duo Maxwell meet Trowa Barton." He waved his   
hand between us in mock greeting.  
  
I frowned on his morbid humor. People react strangely to   
death, and I hoped this twisted side of the dark Japanese   
man was merely that. A helpless reaction in the face of   
death.   
  
"I've seen him while doing the 'paperwork' on the Chinese."   
Heero explained. "The hair is unforgettable."  
  
Right then it was a twisted mess, but the fellow had a   
braid about four feet long. I whistled. I shouldn't have.   
It's not right. But standing in the presence of death has   
a funny effect on people.  
  
"Let's go." Heero turned.  
  
"Shouldn't we search for clues?" I protested,   
glancing around the kitchen. Looking for a weapon.   
Looking for any explanation. "What was in the basement?"  
  
"Nothing." Heero paused, letting his speech trail over his   
shoulder but didn't turn back himself. "This is the only   
clue we were meant to see."  
  
We parted. Silently agreeing to let ourselves sleep one   
more night. On cases like this, one never knew when one   
could rest. We were our only counsel on this independent   
investigation, however, and Yuy sent me home.  
  
I was relieved to find the door locked. I was even more   
relieved when the lights turned on with the switch. The   
helplessness in the dark of that other house had been   
unnerving. I was surprised to see Dorothy sitting on my   
couch. Lounging rather.  
  
"What are you doing here?" I growled not really liking her   
at that moment. Dorothy was a black hole in my memory and   
the introducer of corpses. "You're not invited."  
  
"You wanted to see me earlier." She purred watching me   
stand awkward and tall in the doorway. "I wanted to finish   
things."  
  
The suggestive husk in her throat made me panic inside, but   
I maintained my silent guardianship of the entrance. Did   
she mean finish the deal? Finish the murders? Finish me?   
Finish me how?  
  
"I want out." Her voice was so soft I almost missed it.   
She looked away and her lips twisted into what she tried to   
pass off as a smile. It looked more like a sneer. She was   
darkly beautiful and terrifying. I decided not to move.   
Not to speak.  
  
Dorothy turns back to look at me, her golden hair cascading   
in different directions as if they had a life of their own.   
Waves of greedy gold. "Is he dead?" She asked.  
  
With my silent nod, a rush of emotion caused her to   
tremble. "I didn't know. How long he would last." Her   
eyes were glowing with pain, but nothing more came of it.   
This woman didn't cry. And I felt a sneering sympathy.   
Dorothy was definitely the daughter, the mirror reflection,   
of the City she grew up with. A cold, unfeeling wench.  
  
"Who were you with tonight?" Dorothy asked. The pain in   
her eyes vanished and were replaced with something vacant.  
  
I didn't answer. Still standing. Every silent gesture of   
my body screaming at her, "Leave!"  
  
"The dark officer. Asian." She spoke to herself. "I   
suppose he was the one."  
  
My ears caught her words and my voice was low, "What?"  
  
"The one I was waiting for . . ." her voice trailed off   
and her eyes wandered around the room. Observing, taking   
account of the inventory, furniture, table, mirror. Was   
she remembering or seeing it for the first time? Then how   
did she know where to come? "But you came. You were with   
the dark angel. His partner? But you know so little."  
  
My fingers form silent fists. My lips pressed together.   
What was she saying? Why was I angry? What did Heero   
know?   
  
"You're always so quiet." Dorothy stood, somewhat between   
saucy and demure in her false emotions. She watched me   
from a tilted head as she slowly stepped closer.   
  
Silence was my only strength right then. And I didn't like   
this game. I stepped aside and pushed the door farther   
open to grant her clear access into the hallway.   
  
She seemed to move out, before stepping in close to me.   
She pause with her mouth stretched up to hover by my ear.   
Her breath tickled my cheek with a burning ember. "I would   
have told you anything. If you had asked."  
  
And she was gone.   
  
I shut the door. Locked it. Checked the lock. Then I   
stepped stiffly into my bedroom. I stared at the bed. I   
couldn't sleep there now. I turned back into the living   
room, the picture of Dorothy on the couch burned in my   
mind. I wasn't going to get any sleep.  
  
So I stood at my window, staring at the brick wall beyond.   
Feeling very trapped. With the only visions of freedom far   
beyond the edges of my eyesight.  
  
I imagined grabbing her and slamming her back into the   
couch. Roughly making her answer my questions. *What have   
you done? What have you done with me?* Terrifying her   
until she finally cried.   
  
But as quickly as the images came, I swallowed them down   
and remembered how I had stood silently. Taking all that   
she said. Letting it wash over me. Taking the analytic   
and distant stance. Letting the cool calculations justify   
letting a potential murder suspect simply walk out of my   
room.  
  
My detective practices were becoming as unscrupulous as   
Heero's.  
  
As I walked up to the station the next morning, Heero met   
me on his way out.   
  
"I reported the Maxwell finding." He turned me and pulled   
me along by he hurried pace. "We've been official put on   
the case."  
  
That was good. I relaxed somewhat knowing that we were   
moving back onto the more legal side of the issues. The   
streets were busy and I found myself having to actually   
quicken my pace to keep site of Yuy.   
  
We ended up in a surveillance position over the Chinese   
grocery. Watching out the window, seeing who came and who   
went. I wanted to take advantage of our relative solitude   
to ask my questions.  
  
"Tell me what's going on, Yuy." I bit off his last name.   
Heero was my comrade, but this other side of the Japanese   
man, his mysterious involvement and motivations, annoyed   
me. "Dorothy was meeting a cop wasn't she? You knew that   
because it was you she was waiting for, right?"  
  
Heero leaned against the window sill. His arms crossed and   
his gaze unwavering from the street below. He trusted the   
afternoon glare to cloak his presence from the eyes of   
people on the street. But I saw him. And he had to answer   
to me.  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
That wasn't what I expected. My mouth parted somewhat and   
I suddenly found myself leaning against the opposite side   
of the window. Watching Heero's chiseled features. His   
jaw was clenched tight, but his focus was on his duty.  
  
Did he feel responsible for what happened afterward? The   
jumble of coincidental mishaps that deposited me in the   
middle of his investigation with the Chinese? The anger I   
might have felt shifted into simply curiosity. The answers   
might be understandable. Something I could find empathy   
in.  
  
"I had been in contact with Dorothy." Heero continued.   
"She was leaking me info, but we never made personal   
contact." Each sentence came deliberately. With time and   
consideration taken between each. I waited patiently to   
hear it all. "Then she wanted to end things. Her   
connection to the illegal traffic was slim and she could   
stop it before her friend, Wufei, or others got hurt. She   
wanted to confess in court. We agreed to meet. But I was   
suspicious, since she had chosen Wufei's bar as the meeting   
location. She didn't know I was thoroughly informed of the   
place's ownership."  
  
Heero breathed. "I planned on showing up late. Simply to   
observe her. Follow her home. And then make contact. But   
when I arrived, she had already left. With you."  
  
"I'm not Japanese." I said simply.  
  
Heero's cheek pulled back his lips in a half-smile. "No.   
But all Dorothy knew was that she was meeting a cop." He   
took my figure in with a full glance before resuming his   
watch. "Your appearance is undeniably officer-of-the-law."  
  
I winced at the teasing. "She gave us the information on   
Maxwell as her bargaining chip?"  
  
"Yeah," Heero nodded. "But that didn't go according to   
plan. He was dead and the evidence was gone. So now she's   
more guilty while she's associated with killers."  
  
A chill spilled down my spine, and I saw the Chinese man's   
son enter the store. "Wufei." I murmured.  
  
"Yeah." Was all that Heero replied.  
  
"Someone should follow him when he goes out." I suggested.   
"Oh, and by the way," I let my voice drop to almost a   
threat. "Tell me what it is exactly that we're looking for   
here."  
  
"The person who killed Maxwell."  
  
I rolled my eyes, but had to admit that was all we had for   
a conviction. Even criminals deserved justice after they   
were wrongfully killed. And now, instead of solving a   
mystery to convict an entire criminal organization, we were   
after one assassin. We were nothing more than   
professional, paid and somewhat respectable bounty hunters.   
I had never dreamed that my career would take such a   
terrible twist, simply because I can't handle my liquor.   
  
I vowed never to drink again.  
  
Heero laughed. I must have said that one out loud.  
  
I'm not as bad at tailing a suspect as I demonstrated the   
other day. Heero must have known that because he let me   
tail the Chinese man's son. Wufei was a decent citizen,   
more or less. He had the bar and stayed clear of his   
father's ambitions. According to the records anyway.   
Dorothy and he were considered peaceable enough that they   
were left alone.  
  
But if Dorothy was eager to get out of some sordid affair,   
chances were that Wufei was involved in it as well. He had   
walked over and back from the bar on foot. This was an   
undeserved blessing since neither Heero nor I had provided   
ourselves with a motored form of transportation.   
  
He had stayed to chat with his father, then made his way   
through the crowded market streets back to the darker   
avenues and twisted alleys. Back to where his neon sign   
called to the disheartened bums wandering the streets.   
Inviting them to come in. Take a beer. Drown their   
sorrows. Perhaps meet a beautiful woman.  
  
I wondered why people just didn't go home and appreciate   
their families. Read a book. Listen to the radio.   
Converse. I wondered what had happened to verbal   
communication. Between Heero and I, we had wasted few   
words. Necessity and fear drove the chatter away. There   
were other ways for humans to connect emotionally and often   
words are false. But honest communication.  
  
"I would have told you anything. If you had asked."  
  
Dorothy's words haunt me. So different than the words I do   
remember her whispering on our first meeting.   
  
"Don't tell me what I don't need to know."   
  
And I shudder inwardly. Understanding that those were the   
words of a desperate woman who knew about a potential   
murder that had been actualized. A woman who thought that   
she was talking to a cop. Or, at least, a cop who would   
help her get out. Dorothy thought she had been talking to   
someone else.   
  
"Officer."  
  
"Detective?"  
  
By the second call, I knew that I wasn't imagining   
Dorothy's voice this time. And that she was trying to get   
my attention. I shot a hasty glance in Wufei's direction.   
Was she trying to distract me from her friend? Had she   
recognized me and was seeking my help?  
  
"Trowa."  
  
I stopped. How did she know my name? My heart beat   
faster. Alert.  
  
"It is Trowa." She had been walking up the stairs of an   
apartment building. Her key was still out in her grasp.   
Her other hand held a small purse. It was dark and she had   
been going home. She lived here.  
  
She stepped toward me once. Down the stairs. Hesitant   
between two levels. Uncertain if she should have stopped   
me and realizing that she truly had.   
  
I wanted some answers. I glanced along the road. Wufei   
was out of sight. Turning back, I spoke in a low voice, "I   
want some answers."  
  
"Of course," She glanced up the building most likely to   
consider her own window.   
  
Would she invite me up? I wondered, but her gaze once it   
returned to meet my own eyes, held all of the invitation   
that I could have imagined.  
  
Justifying it quickly in my own mind, I knew that I could   
learn more from a conversation with Dorothy than all of the   
tracking I did of the Chinese man's son.   
  
Her apartment was golden with light. I walked over to the   
window, unable to see very well, studying my own face amid   
the reflected glow. I shifted my eyes to see Dorothy where   
she had stopped halfway across the room. She was watching   
me. Then she tossed the small purse onto the white couch   
and sat next to it. She was wearing a black jacket,   
totally unnecessary in the current weather. It made her   
look like someone with something to hide. She wrapped the   
coat closer to her.   
  
She knew I was watching her.   
  
"I won't apologize." She started.   
  
"For what?" I asked quietly.  
  
"For the drugs." She bit her lip. Worried it a little. I   
wondered if she was trying to concoct a tale that made her   
part seem gentler. Less uncaring. "It didn't help much   
really. You didn't know anything, so you couldn't answer   
my questions."  
  
I frowned, staring at my reflection. Hurt in my eyes. My   
other features frozen. Frozen over the glass.  
  
"And I didn't ask anything personal." Dorothy added a more   
light-hearted inflection at the end. I didn't say   
anything, so she continued. "I was only trying to protect   
myself. See if my valiant officer was on the level about   
helping me." She tried laughing again. "And it seems that   
the dark Japanese guy didn't trust me either. My actions   
were justified."  
  
"What does this have to do with the dead fellow?" I asked,   
changing the subject before she spoke more about that   
evening. The evening that was erased from my memory,   
except flashbacks of a touch. Fingers brushing back the   
hair from my face.  
  
"Duo." She sighed. It wasn't a genuine sigh. Her nature   
wasn't genuine. "He was serving as sort of an underground   
railroad of sorts for illegals."  
  
"Illegals?" I lifted an eyebrow. "Not only goods, but   
people?"  
  
"Both. A little business on the side." Dorothy nodded.   
"And not the imported variety either. Escaped cons."  
  
"What?" Trying to disguise the disbelief in my voice.   
  
"Some of them were coming to work for us." She might have   
stumbled over saying that last word, but continued just as   
quickly. "Others were marked. Contracts on their heads.   
Wufei was going to buy them off in turn for services."  
  
"Wufei?" I asked. So this was separate from the Chinese   
man and his petty crimes organization. When she nodded, I   
asked about Duo again.  
  
"He was the middleman really. Propositioned the inmates.   
Polled them. Pulled the best candidates. Interrogated   
them and sent them to the bar." Dorothy guessed my next   
question. "And he'd been doing this for almost a year."  
  
"Unnoticed." I breathed.   
  
"It's easy to buy off the guards when you're simply   
exchanging the con from one sort of imprisonment to   
another." Dorothy shrugged. "And it sounded okay to me,   
so I went along with it."  
  
"But you want out now. Why?"  
  
"It's crazy." She snapped. "Wufei's over his head. He's   
got these sick people loose doing sick things. It's not   
*mildly* illegal like simply carrying things. It's not   
even the rehabilitating justice he hoped for."  
  
"Maxwell's picks weren't so good?"   
  
"No. They were great. Too good actually. Some of the   
guys lied well-just to get out. Others had multiple   
contracts on their heads. Wufei settled the ones he knew   
about, but not all of them."  
  
I shook my head. How could one man do all of this? "What   
did he think he was doing?"   
  
"Saving them? Giving them true justice?" Dorothy laughed.   
"He doesn't care much for your sort of law." She had stood   
by then and walked forward to point her finger in my chest   
with her last words. "You guys . . ."  
  
"What about us?" I asked. She's good looking if she's   
crooked. Something in the way she talks so sharply and   
looks so teasing while talking about crazy plots to   
rehabilitate the guilty. Dorothy's confident to say the   
least.  
  
Seductive at her most. She's pulled at my collar. I   
haven't twitched a finger. This wasn't what I want, but   
I'm curious about what she thinks she can get. And she   
smelled good. Fortunately, I was at my most resolved.  
  
"You're just as reluctant as last time." She licked her   
lips.  
  
I'm wondering what she means. This uncertainty causes a   
familiar buzzing in my head.  
  
"I thought you wanted out?" I ask after a secret inward   
choke.   
  
"I do." And then Dorothy backed away from me, stepping   
into the room, touching her face with pale, long fingers.   
Holding her head as if it's buzzing as well. Did I do that   
to her?  
  
She suddenly looked very small. "It's wrong. Very wrong.   
Wrong for Wufei to try this."  
  
I nodded sharply. Uncertain if I should say anything.   
She's beautiful in a simple way too. But suddenly more   
complicated than I can handle. Was she falsely cloaking   
herself with this vulnerability or was she really seeking   
help? I wanted to trust her. But I couldn't.   
  
"Stop him."  
  
"Ok." I agreed. I could agree to that. "But what about   
Duo?"  
  
"He's dead. Killed." She's standing taller now. Her pale   
face glowing with some renewed inner strength.  
  
"Who killed him?" I asked. "Do you know?"  
  
She smiled, the sort of scary smile that lets you know that   
someone is keeping a secret. "Yes. It was him."  
  
"Him?"  
  
"Wufei's father."  
  
I hesitated. Uncertain how to proceed, when she said what   
I wanted to hear.  
  
"I think it'd be best if I went with you to the station,   
now."  
  
I closed my eyes, making the world disappear for that   
fraction of a moment. Was Wufei's father responsible? Or   
would Dorothy have tried to stop Wufei herself? She was   
the one eager to finish Wufei's latest scheme. What was   
most important?  
  
When I opened my eyes, I replied in cool Heero Yuy fashion,   
"Come with me."  
  
The overnight crew was dozing through their paperwork when   
I escorted Dorothy Catalonia back to my desk. From the   
shadows of the corner, I could just make out Heero's eyes   
watching me. I wondered how long he had been waiting   
there. I nodded him over.  
  
"Sit, please." I offered Dorothy a stiff, cold chair which   
I set to face my desk. She gracefully slid into it,   
noticing when Heero stepped up just behind where I half sat   
on the desk.   
  
"Dorothy is going to testify against Wufei and his father   
regarding the murder of Duo Maxwell." I explained simply.  
  
Heero's eyes noticeably widened. He glanced at the blond   
woman and then back at me. This time I was the one keeping   
secrets. I shook my head almost indiscernibly. Heero   
pulled my sleeve in the back. A small tug that Dorothy   
wouldn't notice. He wanted to talk with me.  
  
I had to smile a little. Obviously, Yuy could keep secrets   
himself, but could not bare them kept from him.   
  
Stepping out of hearing for a moment I summarized quickly.   
"She thinks that Wufei's trying to rehabilitate convicts in   
a special way. Maxwell was helping traffic them, select   
the most likely candidates."   
  
Heero wrinkled his forehead. "The Chinese man killed Duo   
Maxwell?"  
  
"Why not?" I shrugged. "Perhaps he's got something   
against his own son? Besides, they were chatting at length   
today and rather strongly arguing about something."   
  
"Hn." Heero grunted. "Do you trust your instincts?"  
  
I glanced over at Dorothy. "She'll testify. And I don't   
think she'd go to this trouble if the Chinese man wasn't   
guilty of a great many other things."  
  
Heero's eyes narrowed. But where I feared his judgment,   
all I saw was his understanding. "And Dorothy will   
accepting a conviction as an accomplice with Wufei. Who   
we'll bring in as well. The whole operation is finally   
brought into the light."   
  
I nodded.  
  
"Do you think she killed Maxwell?" Heero asked me. I   
watched her sit demurely in the wooden chair. Taken out of   
the bar, she seemed strangely vulnerable and fascinating.   
I remembered how she had traced her finger around the   
glass. As reflective, distressed and lost as I had been at   
the same moment. Both of us scared, confused, and terribly   
human.  
  
"I wouldn't put anything past her."   
  
I sat in on every court hearing. I watch her speak clearly   
to answer every question put to her. She was alert and   
impeccably frank in her replies. The prosecuting lawyer   
had little to worry about because she sealed his   
conviction. And the recently neglected folder dedicated to   
the Chinese racket was hidden away with the solved cases.   
  
Dorothy elegantly accepted her own conviction. Her every   
word projected that desire. Small deals were cut for her   
assistance in convicting the others. She would return to   
the City a free woman in under a year.  
  
Even Wufei had come under the justice of the shadier laws   
of the City. Soon after the news of Dorothy's upcoming   
testimony, Wufei was found dead in his own bar. His death   
had been strangely similar to that of his accomplice.   
Heero and I could only wonder at the connections.   
  
And, thanks to Dorothy, the murder of Duo Maxwell fell on   
the shoulders of the Chinese grocer. It was the only crime   
for which they had evidence to convict him.  
  
As the judge read the final verdicts, I peered through the   
railing to study Dorothy's features. She had become   
strangely fascinating, having ensnared my curiosity like a   
delirious fly in the spider's embrace. I let my thoughts   
linger on her every word. Trying to understand the things   
that baffled me about her.   
  
The nagging in my mind that reminded me not to forget that   
she was a spider.   
  
While the bailiff escorts her from the room, she turns   
slightly. Her head lifts. Her gaze might have settled on   
my own. But just as quickly, she was gone.   
  
With Dorothy, I'm forever standing on the outside. Looking   
in.  
  
Justice doesn't satisfy. Not in this City anyway. And I   
was never going to get all of my answers. This time the   
realization didn't drive me to the streets in despair. I   
was not lulled in by the neon lights. This time I had   
helped put away a lot of rotten people that littered her   
streets. And I had finally found myself a partner in the   
force, a friend.  
  
Heero let the stack of papers fall onto my desk with a   
smack.   
  
"What's this?" I protested.   
  
Yuy smirked. "A list of small fry for you to bring in   
since you brought them all to our attention. Good job."  
  
"I see your name on this as well." I pointed to the top of   
the folder. Heero shrugged. Sighing, I asked, "Did Wufei   
really set *all* of these cons loose? They're all   
somewhere in the City?"  
  
Heero shrugged again. "If they haven't left." He replied   
dryly.  
  
"That's still a tall order." I grimaced. "We help convict   
a true menace to society, and now they want us to act as   
petty bounty hunters?"  
  
Heero's shoulders began their upward pattern again when I   
reached up with one hand. A gesture on surrender.   
  
"Well, it'll be a less painful?" I suggested, hopeful,   
touching my healed jaw.   
  
"I'm thinking of it as job security."  
  
I laughed quietly, glancing at the quantity. Heero had a   
point. "Let's get started. Tomorrow."  
  
***  
There's a point between sleeping and waking when I hear the   
gentle voice of a woman. She reminds me of my mother. She   
calls me her darling and brushes my hair back from my face.   
It's a small motion, but it gives me the most comfort. The   
day always seems brightest when she calls to me.  
  
"Darling, Trowa."  
  
"Do you remember me? Do you remember who I am?"  
  
"You haven't forgotten me already have you?"  
  
"What's that you say?"  
  
"You love me? Is that it? Is that what you want to tell   
me?"  
  
"You wish that you had a chance to get to know me? To see   
me everyday?"  
  
"Darling, Trowa." She says. The purr in her voice this   
time reminding me of someone else. "You talk so softly in   
your sleep."  
  
  
the end  
  
  
(*whew* It's over. Over! Let me tell you this was   
another bizarre creation that spilled out of my head onto   
the paper and I almost wish I wasn't responsible for it's   
outcome. But still, I do like Alternate Reality. And I   
love Heero/Trowa fics. Let me know what you think either   
by dropping me an e-mail at stormy812@hotmail.com or you   
can find me posting at Lt. Noin's message board:   
http://ltnoinsguidetogw.mainpage.net) 


End file.
